Have you ever wondered what it’s like being the decision maker, as in THE decision maker, more specifically the decision maker as to whether or not someone will be able to enjoy their life and live it the way it was MEANT to be lived. I’m talking to you Blue Cross. I was finally able to talk to my doctor about scheduling a much needed hysterectomy after a two week long game of phone tag (working midnights most definately has it downsides) . She said she was putting together my paperwork for their case manager (I really don’t even know the official name for that position so this is what I’m referring to her as) to contact my insurance company and hopefully get them to approve the surgery.
Here’s what hopefully means to me:
the past 18 years, since the day I started my period at 12 yrs old I have been plagued with heavy irregular bleeding that leads me to becoming physically ill. I was diagnosed with endometriosis at 17 yrs old and told I may not be able to have children. I had two children and now that show is over. I think I may have been more in love with the IDEA of having a baby than actually having a baby. At this point I have been bleeding essentially non stop for six months.
I’d be really interested in what my platelet count is right now. After a brief reprieve of a whole week the bleeding is now back with vengeance to the point that I am so nauseous and dizzy that I am having a hard time processing thoughts and functioning. I’m tired of waking up soaked in blood and ruining every bit of clothing I own. I’d like to be able to , I don’t know, stand upright and walk around without feeling like I’m going to pass out and everything is gray, fuzzy and the background noise is now echoing. I’m pretty sure I’m not suppose to SEE my platelets when I change undergarments, I feel like the baby factory might actually be decinigrating at this point. I’m sick and miserable, and sick of BEING miserable.
My husband deserves a wife not a ward, and my kids need their mom back. I want my life back and my uterus the f*ck out. I’ll donate the bitch to science because I’m fairly certain it was created from one of the inner circles of hell and has its own method of mass destruction.
I have to pray to the all mighty insurance gods that some suit and tie who sits behind a desk all day and doesn’t know anything about the pain and suffering and my quickly declining quality of life, will decide that I have suffered long enough. I think it is completely ridiculous that an insurance company can say no to a procedure that a doctor deems necessary based on whatever made up parameters they decide on. The biggest factor apparently is my age. I’m 30 which is apparently young to have a hysterectomy. However I’m married with two kids , have a rough gyn history that spans almost two decades, I’ve had multiple surgeries and tried literally every medication out there to try and correct this nightmare. I have defective equipment. Three generations before me have had hysterectomy’s for the same exact reason. There is no fixing this, it needs to go, end of story.
I’m not above physically going into the offices of Blue Cross and throwing a shit fit if they deny my surgery. True Story.